


works no longer in progress, 2017 ed.

by pnjunction (justjoy)



Series: {works no longer in progress} [3]
Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2019-06-19 13:38:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15511053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justjoy/pseuds/pnjunction
Summary: Random snippets and unfinished works circa 2017; all DCMK this time, see chapter titles for specific AUs/verses.





	1. backfire [verse: past time]

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [past time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10403550) by [presumenothing (justjoy)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justjoy/pseuds/presumenothing). 
  * Inspired by [flash point](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10092899) by [presumenothing (justjoy)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justjoy/pseuds/presumenothing). 



> in this instalment – lots of half-finished AUs or extensions thereof, probably, with a bunch of incomplete prompt responses for variety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this falls in the same verse as [past time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10403550) aka the one where kaito and shiho end up meeting pre-canon, and specifically precedes [this ficlet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12049929/chapters/27285429).
> 
> (or: the one where kaito pranks his new flatmate, and shiho Does Not react well)

Shiho doesn’t scream, only tries frantically to breathe past the roar of heartbeat loud in her ears. “What the _hell_ , Kuroba.”

Kuroba, to his credit, doesn’t try to brush it off, though he _does_ look genuinely confused. “Okay, what did I do wrong?”

 _What do you_ think _?_ Shiho answers in silent disbelief.

(Perhaps it’s unrealistic of her to expect Kuroba to have realised the extent of her paranoia this early on, not when her subjects of comparison are Kudo, the professor, and the Detective Boys.

Right now, though, she can’t care less, not when the mere _thought_ of explaining is enough to strangle her.)

Shiho clenches a hand around the smooth metal of her phone, forces herself to take three deep breaths, and manages the words, “I’m leaving. Don’t wait up.”

She doesn’t run, but it’s a close thing. The door slams shut on stunned silence behind her.

 

* * *

 

Shiho walks by the pharmaceuticals research building and doesn’t stop. A part of her is tempted to lose herself in the motions, in the clinical familiarity of her lab, but she knows better than to potentially waste months of exacting efforts with a day’s worth of subpar work.

Still, wandering aimlessly isn’t something she’s ever had a tendency to do, so she’s unsurprised to find herself heading for the centre of campus on autopilot. It’s late enough in the day that the only students still around are those with evening classes, and whichever sports team it is that’s practicing at the athletic field today. Shiho’s never bothered to find out.

A sudden frigid gust whips past her face, and Shiho shivers, zipping her coat up further against the cold.

There’s a book on epistemology that she’s been meaning to borrow from the central library anyway, though she realises with a detached sort of surprise that she can’t recall the exact title now.

Shiho is about to go in anyway (she can always look the book up in the library catalogue, it shouldn’t be difficult to find) when she registers a voice calling out to her. “Oi, Neechan!”

“I’d thank you to use my name, Hattori-kun,” she retorts almost automatically, her tone sharper than the situation calls for. It’s partly out of annoyance at herself for not remembering that the criminal justice lecture _is_ one of those evening classes.

But the Osakan doesn’t look offended as he half-jogs up to her, Kudo and Hakuba trailing behind at a more sedate pace. “Sorry, sorry! I’ll remember that next time, Shiho-san!”

This much is familiar ground – Hattori slips up on her name about as often as he did with Conan’s – but before she can reply Hakuba speaks up with a frown. “What did Kuroba-kun do this time, Miyano-san?”

He’s frowning at her – correction, he _and_ Kudo both are, and even Hattori appears to have put the proverbial thinking cap on as well.

“What makes you think Kuroba-kun did anything?” Shiho asks in return, more to stall the inevitable than any real desire to deny – it’s not as if they won’t find out what happened from Kuroba, anyway.

(It’s bothersome, sometimes, knowing this many detectives. She can agree with Kuroba on that one.)

Hakuba hesitates to reply, but Kudo has no such reluctance, not when it comes to his deductions. “You have afternoon classes on Thursdays, but your bag isn’t with you, and you never leave stuff in your locker.”

“Therefore, you must have returned to your apartment sometime in between,” Hakuba continues. “And I happen to know that one of Kuroba-kun’s lectures this afternoon was cancelled on account of the professor being ill, which would coincide with the window of time you likely returned.”

“And you’re obviously upset about somethin’, ne– I mean, Shiho-san,” Hattori amends upon receiving several withering looks, his words blunt as they ever are. “So, what happened? Do I need to kick Kuroba’s ass for you?”

It’s absurd, she thinks absently, that they’re all so protective of her. She’s a whole year older than them, after all.

Shiho is still trying to figure out an answer – the fight-or-flight response has faded enough now that she can think without the pound of adrenaline – when Hakuba’s handphone rings.

She already has a good guess of who’s calling, and it’s confirmed a moment alter when Hakuba picks up. “Yes, Kuroba-kun?”

Hakuba listens for almost a whole minute before speaking, his tone sharp enough to cut glass. “I’ll pass the message.”

Then he hangs up, and turns to Shiho, his tone oddly formal. “Kuroba-kun would like to apologise, and promises to refrain from such thoughtless actions in the future.”

Shiho wonders what Kuroba said on the phone, but it’s clearly enough to get the message across – Hakuba had never been as closely involved in the Organisation takedown as Hattori was, but he was aware of her involvement in it.

Hattori winces, though it’s Kudo who speaks next. “Let me guess, he put a smoke bomb in your apartment?”

“Rigged the front door. I believe he was trying to surprise me.”

“Kuroba is a _moron,_ ” Hattori says with surprising vindictiveness.

Hakuba grimaces. “Did you draft ground rules at the start of the semester?”

“I wasn’t under the impression that they were necessary.”

“Oh, believe me, they are. How else do you think our class survived to graduate high school?”

 

 


	2. contingency, i [verse: flash point]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one falls in the [flash point](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10092899) verse, aka the one where Everyone Gets Esper Powers (yay awesome), aka stop setting stuff on fire hakuba dammit

The fifth time Kaitou Kid gets shot at during a heist, Saguru goes home and incinerates a two-by-four-foot target, inch by inch by inch.

(The practice room in the Hakuba estate isn’t even supposed to be open at this hour, but Saguru finds his usual setup waiting when he gets home anyway. It only serves to further confirm his current theory that Baaya has some latent telepathic abilities, but that’s neither here nor there.

The point is, Saguru thinks almost viciously as he hurls twin streaks of fire at the next two points indicated by lasers, selected by a randomisation algorithm he’d written himself – he’d long since learned to decouple the physical gesture from his powers, of course, but tonight there’s an oddly visceral satisfaction to the movement, to seeing another two points scorched with pinpoint accuracy –

– the point _is_ , Kuroba Kaito is a _bloody moron_  with the self-preservation of a _suicidal lemming_ , and hell if Saguru’s going to stand by and let him do just that.)

 

* * *

 

The next day, Saguru throws a wadded ball of paper at Kuroba during lunch break.

The magician had turned up for class this morning looking cheerfully unperturbed as usual. That much was expected, but even then Saguru had felt an annoyed flare of heat that he’d forcibly tamped down by ascertaining that Kuroba showed no visible stiffness of movement that could indicate a serious injury.

Little wonder that Nakamori-keibu has issues with hypertension, Saguru thinks, as he watches the crumpled ball fly in a perfect arc to hit its target unerringly – Kuroba had a tendency to be endlessly irritating in either persona.

“Ow!” Kuroba whirls around immediately from where he’d been talking to Aoko, rubbing at the back of his head – for show, obviously, since Saguru knows for a fact that his pain tolerance is significantly higher than that, but Kuroba is nothing if not a consummate showman all the way through. “What’s your problem, Hakuba?”

Saguru has the rare privilege of seeing both Kuroba and Aoko at a genuine and complete loss, for once. “Well,” he answers blandly, “I figured you could work on a shield to deflect projectiles, Kuroba-kun, now that you’ve gained sufficient control over air currents to fly.”

Aoko’s expression turns distant for a moment, then morphs into understanding. “That – you’d have to accelerate the air quite a bit to compensate for the low density, but that might actually work, Kaito! Besides, Aoko knows that you’ve been bored out of your mind in training since you mastered the flying thing.”

“Of course,” Saguru answers, though he’s speaking mostly to Kuroba – whose expression is one of comprehension, as well, if for a completely different reason. “I wouldn’t have suggested such a thing without having done the preliminary calculations myself. So, are you up to it, Kuroba-kun?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hakuba, of course I – _wargh!_ ” Kuroba dodges with an ungraceful yelp as Saguru lobs another paper ball at him, but – there. It could’ve been an unlikely trick of the light, but Saguru is fairly certain that the ball’s path had deflected.

Only infinitesimally, of course. He’d been expecting that.

Saguru doesn’t particularly mind. This exercise is turning out to be fairly therapeutic for him, if nothing else.

(Aoko joins in soon enough. Kuroba doesn’t look best pleased with either development, but given the number of pranks Saguru has been on the receiving end of in the past week alone, this is entirely fair payback as far as he’s concerned.)

 

* * *

 

Kuroba finds him on the roof after school, as Saguru had been expecting him to do. “So, what was that really all about?”

“Do you know the momentum of a rifle bullet, Kuroba-kun?” Saguru asks, and it's not a rhetorical question but he doesn't wait for a response anyway, because feigned ignorance isn't really a thing he wants to hear right now. “The average bullet weighs 10 to 20 grams, and travels at 900 to 1000 metres a second.”

He rattles off the numbers quickly, but he can already see Kuroba doing the calculations in his head. “That’s...”

“Higher than you could realistically hope to counter, by several orders of magnitude,” Saguru interrupts, because he’s always been a stickler for precision but this is one case where the exact numbers are of little consequence. “Unless you’ve developed the ability for near-instantaneous supersonic acceleration without me noticing.”

Which is a possibility, if a _highly_ unlikely one – even for someone of Kuroba’s proficiency, breaking the sound barrier isn’t exactly something that can be done on a whim, but Saguru has learned not to dismiss the improbable when it comes to Kuroba.

His deduction is borne out, though, in the sharp shake of the magician’s head.

“Detection and deflection, on the other hand...” Saguru continues, watching Kuroba out the corner of his eye, and catches the gleam of realisation there.

[...]

Kuroba is a annoying fast learner. By the end of the week, he’s already had a successful deflection rate of 80%, though it does vary a fair bit depending on how much warning Kuroba gets.

(Which, as Saguru helpfully points out the Aoko – all the more reason for testing this newfound skill when Kuroba least expects it. Of course.)

 

 


	3. contingency, ii [verse: flash point]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more flash point!

The problem with pyrokinesis, Saguru thinks, is the dearth of ways to disable rather than kill, or at least seriously injure.

Mass destruction? Easy. Saguru has literally lost count of the number of training dummies he’s accidentally charred beyond all recognition, but he knows it’s in the high hundreds.

Saguru eyes the multitude of trenchcoat-clad figures on the rooftop – impressive, that Kid of all people has warranted such levels of firepower, but also _damn_ it – and rates his chances of being able to (a) take a sufficient fraction of them out at once while (b) leaving the building relatively unscathed and (c) enough of them alive to interrogate and preferably arrest the living daylights out of, since Kid himself is obviously not a viable witness and Saguru’s not even supposed to be here himself.

“I don’t suppose you have any brilliant plans, Kid?”

Kid laughs airily, though it’s betrayed by tension in the set of his shoulders. “Don’t be ridiculous, tantei-san, _all_ my plans are brilliant.”

[...]

In front of him, Kid’s posture shifts slightly, and Saguru catches a murmur just loud enough for him to hear. “Take out your earpiece.”

Saguru does, trying to make the motion as surreptitious as possible, and is about to ask why when all hell breaks loose.

Or, to put it more precisely, a dark shape appears several feet above them on the roof, followed by several bursts of sound – _gunshots_ , Saguru realises, and in the light of muzzle flashes the shape above resolves into two vaguely familiar figures –

Saguru has just had enough time to register the visibly crackling aura surrounding Edogawa Conan before it snaps out in a wide arc of electricity, and the sudden screech of radio feedback fills the air.

It’s difficult be certain in the dim light, but Saguru thinks he sees several of Snake’s men loosen their grip in surprise – and Kid, never one to miss an opportunity, sends a strong gust that knocks the guns right out of their hands even as Hattori Heiji disappears again, with Edogawa in tow.

The whole sequence takes no more than eight seconds. Hattori teleports in beside them as the last of the bullets that hadn’t gone completely wide at the duo’s appearance clatter to the ground, slowed by the combination of electromagnetic fields and air currents.

(Saguru has heard of Kudo Shinichi’s electrokinetic abilities, of course – the Tokyo police is rife with tales of it, from the mundane to the more farfetched rumours of Kudo being able to stop a bullet cold. What Edogawa has demonstrated is a bare fraction of that power, but even Saguru himself would’ve been hard pressed to pull off such a wide-area effect at that age.

Kuroba hadn’t been exaggerating matters, clearly.)

Saguru snaps himself out of his thoughts just in time to catch the tail end of a disgruntled mutter from Edogawa. “ – could’ve just taken them out directly, you know.”

“You’re not supposed to be doing that anyway,” Hattori answers chidingly as he sets the elementary schooler down behind himself. “Or your Neechan will have my head and ya know it.”

Saguru takes in the sight of Edogawa glaring almost mulishly at the Osakan detective and asks the first of many questions on his mind. “Hattori-kun? What are you _doing_ here?”

“I just _happened to be in town_ , of course. What d’ya think?” Hattori snaps at him.

Saguru considers the probability of Hattori being capable of teleportation jumps between cities on short notice, and comes to the conclusion that –

“I didn’t say that I had _no_ contingency plans, tantei-san, I just needed them to believe that,” Kid says with distinct amusement in his voice, and continues before Saguru can answer. (Or, more possibly, strangle his head clean off.) “We’ll make sure to include you in any secret plans next time, don’t worry. Give us… three minutes’ head start, tantei-han?”

“One minute will do, Kid,” Edogawa cuts in, tone still vaguely irritated. “Stop treating me like a child.”

Kid grins and nods. “Two minutes it is, then. See you later, detectives!”

Then he picks Edogawa up much like Hattori did – earning a squawk of protest in return – before launching himself off the roof with a jaunty tip of his hat.

And Saguru feels the breath stop in his throat, because he _knows_ Kuroba’s limits and they _do not extend_ to keeping himself airborne while carrying the extra weight of both Kid’s gear and a child –

His frantic look over the edge, though, shows Kid braking his freefall with the help of truly ridiculously amounts of electricity arcing out towards building’s frame, which is… really _something_ , though Saguru doesn’t get to figure out what before the sharp report of gunfire shows that Snake’s goons are up at it again.

[...]

Saguru eyes the Osakan with considerable trepidation – little wonder that no one had clued him in beforehand, if his escape plan is supposed to be _Hattori Heiji_. “If you splinch us, Hattori-kun, I will not hesitate to reduce you to ashes.”

The other detective merely quirks an amused eyebrow at him. “What d’ya think this is, Harry Potter?”

 

* * *

 

“Hattori-kun, do you ever feel like – ”

“ – our respective powers are some cosmic joke?” Hattori snorts. “Hell, do I ever. Though that’s gotta mean the universe has the same crap sense of humour as you then.”

[...]

“So what’s going on, Hakuba?”

Saguru almost stops mid-movement out of sheer disbelief. “Did you really come here without knowing even that much?”

“Yeah?” Hattori’s reply sounds almost quizzical. “Ku – I mean, Conan-kun told me that he needed help over here, so I teleported part of the way and got an express train ticket for the rest, since last-minute bullet train tickets are a real pain anyway. Briefing didn’t go much beyond ‘someone is taking potshots at Kaitou Kid’, but I’m assumin’ you have at least some idea as to why.”

“I’m impressed that you have any faith at all in my abilities,” Saguru says dryly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How much do you know about Kaitou Kid?”

“Only that he’s got too much time on his hands, and judging from that display earlier he’s most likely an aerokinetic.” Hattori shrugs. “I work homicide, Hakuba, not thefts.”

Saguru is briefly tempted to argue that he _does_ in fact know a fair bit about the set of currently wanted serial killers despite the reverse being true of himself, but drops the thought in favour of expediency.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (yes, that's a toaru kagaku no railgun reference right there, because i already had electrokinetic!shinichi and teleporter!heiji was just too hilarious to resist ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ aha)


	4. prompt #1 [saguru & kaito: airport]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: meeting each other at the airport, saguru & kaito

The high ceilings of Narita Airport are a welcome sight after eleven hours and forty-two minutes of being confined to an aircraft.

Saguru’s glance flickers quickly over the surroundings as he walks towards Kuroba, who’s leaning against one wall of the arrivals hall, scrolling through something on his handphone. “Quite the welcoming committee, aren’t you?”

“Can’t be helped.” Kuroba shrugs. “Aoko would’ve come, but she was busy.”

Saguru checks his pocketwatch – an affectation, really, he’s essentially been trapped with nothing but the tick of every second for almost half a day, he’s more than well aware of what time it is right now. “Drama club practice this afternoon, if I recall correctly.”

Kuroba gives him an exasperated look, though he reaches out to take the small carry-on luggage. Saguru lets him. “Doesn’t changing timezone ever screw with with your sense of time?”

“Doesn’t living two lives do the same to yours?” Saguru says, diffidently.

“As usual, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, Akako intoned something cryptic and ominuous about metal birds and doom, though I’m starting to think that she might just have a grudge against all non-broomstick forms of air travel. So you’re stuck with me.” Kuroba rolls his eyes, stowing the phone away in a pocket. “Come on, I parked right outside, let’s get out of here already.”

Saguru can’t help freezing for a second. The closest parking lots are usually for motorbikes – Kuroba doesn’t _look_ like he biked all the way here from Ekoda, but with him you never knew. “Please tell me you didn’t take the bike here.”

“No, I teleported,” Kuroba deadpans, even as he fishes a set of car keys out of his other pocket. “Jii-chan lent me his car, don’t worry your head about it.”

[...]

“So, how are things back home?”

Saguru levels a vaguely amused glance at Kuroba beside him. “I don’t necessarily define London as ‘home’, Kuroba-kun.”

Kuroba shrugs, fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel as they wait out a red light. “Whatever, you know what I mean.”

…he does. Saguru stares out the window, and doesn’t sigh. “Things are… complicated.”

The magician’s reply is irritated. “You don’t want to tell me, fine, forget I asked.”

“What – ” Saguru’s clearly more jetlagged than he’d thought from the flight, because it takes him a moment to piece things together and realise why Kuroba’s offended. “I wasn’t trying to avoid the question, Kuroba-kun. My parents are…” he scrubs a hand across his face, and finally settles on, “bordering on intractable, in their wishes regarding my future decisions.”

He can practically hear Kuroba parsing through his thoughts beside him.

“They want you to return to London?” he ventures.

Saguru shrugs slightly. “More or less.”

“Don’t stay on my account, then,” Kuroba says jokingly.

Saguru huffs in bemusement, shaking his head. “Don’t overestimate yourself, Kuroba-kun.”

 

 


	5. prompt #2 [heiji: rain]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: when it rains/snows/storms, heiji

Heiji… doesn’t really have an opinion on the weather, to be honest.

Maybe it’s partly because the weather in Osaka is usually pretty mild year-round, so the weather on any given day hasn’t ever been something that particularly bothered him.

Or - well, admittedly, he _did_  remember hating the rain as a kid, but that had mostly been because it meant being trapped indoors under his mother’s hawklike gaze. Then he’d discovered books and kendo, and the indoors stopped being such a terrible place to be.

[...]

He does remember hating the rain this one time, though.

It had been his last year of middle school, after he’d been working with the Osaka police for long enough to have gained something of a reputation, but not quite to the point where he ended up at every single crime scene in the city.

(Though admittedly Heiji isn’t very sure that even happened to anyone _besides_  Kudo. Which was entirely possible, but also beside the point.)

He’d been on the way back from the dojo after a late practice, crossing the Dotonbori bridge and just about to consider getting a bite to eat before heading home when his phone rang.

Muttering a stifled curse as he nearly dropped the damn thing, Heiji finally juggled his bag and kendo gear enough to answer the phone.

“Moshi moshi, Heiji-kun?” Otaki-han’s voice was immediately recognisable over the line. “Are you near the central business district?”

Heiji squinted in the pouring rain - glad for once about his mom’s insistent nagging that he bring an umbrella out with him despite the low probability of rain forecast - and managed to make out the name of the nearest subway station that sat across the bridge. “Close enough. Did something come up?”

“Yeah.” The answer was obvious even from just the detective’s grim tone, devoid of its usual good humour. “There’s been a murder, we could use your help. Do you need me to send one of the officers to pick you up?”

“No, it’s fine, I’m just a couple stops away,” Heiji answered, already jogging towards the lit subway entrance.

“Okay, I’ll send you the address and tell the perimeter guys to let you through later.”

His phone lit with a text alert just as he got through the subway gantry.

[...] 

The rain, if anything, had only gotten heavier since he entered the subway station.

Heiji hadn’t even known that it was possible for the rain to be this heavy in Osaka - they were going to turn in Tokyo at this rate.

The perimeter guard let him in after a glance at his ID, and Heiji hurried past the crime scene tape to the makeshift shelter he could see under the floodlights - the crime scene, he assumed.

“Otaki-han!” he called, ducking under the tarp that was keeping most of the rain out of the command post.

“Oh, Heiji-kun!” The detective looked up from where he was studying documents laid out across the desk, and crossed the cramped area to Heiji’s side. His expression was mildly apologetic. “I’m sorry to have to call you over like this, I know you must be tired.”

“Nah, I’m fine for another few hours at the very least,” Heiji answered with a slight grin - it was true, kendo practice always left him wide awake for into the night, if physically exhausted. “Anything specific I can help with?”

“Right now we just need more eyes to canvas the area, see if we need to widen the crime scene boundaries. Heaven knows we’d be lucky just to find anything of use in this rain, so every second counts. The crime scene photos and whatever information we’ve managed to gather are in the central table over there, and - ” Otaki dug around in his pocket for a moment before retrieving a set of keys. “Here, go put your stuff in my car and then you can get started. It’s parked down the street, just ask any of the officers if you can’t find it.”

Heiji nodded, taking the keys before opening his umbrella and stepping out into the pouring rain once again. 

 

 


	6. prompt #3 [kid & saguru]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dialogue prompt:  
> > Kaito/KID "We phantom thieves live by a strict code."  
> > Jii (whispers to him) "No we don't. You've been winging it since day one."

“So, breaking the laws of physics is fine, but not one of your rules?”

That actually startles a laugh out of Kid – quickly stifled, yes, but Saguru had heard genuine amusement in it. “My, my, I didn’t even  _know_  you possessed a sense of humour, tantei-san.”

“Perhaps that’s because some of us,” Saguru pauses, peering around the corner, “unlike others, prefer not to express our humour through flash bombs and glitter dyes?”

Kid chuckles. “Touché. You should try it sometime though, it can be fairly relaxing. Or perhaps a second career in stand-up comedy?”

“I’m perfectly fine with being a detective, thanks.”

“Be that as it may, though, we phantom thieves,” Kid answers (in a tone that suddenly rings of Saguru’s own habitually precise diction, though he actually wonders if the thief even realises it), “live by a strict code, tantei-san. It’s part of the profession.”

He’s about to retort when Kid raises a hand to tap his earpiece – though it’s mostly for his benefit, Saguru thinks, since with the engineering knowhow that Kid clearly has at his disposal it’s unlikely that the device would require such a clumsy gesture to operate.

Kid’s voice is back to its usual cadence when he speaks into the doubtlessly well-hidden microphone. “Something funny?”

(No names, of course, but if Saguru is any good as a detective – which he is – he has a fairly good guess at who is on the other end of the line.

Saguru watches the exchange – now too soft to be heard – before speaking, allows a hint of sarcasm into his voice. “Should I come back later?”

“My able assistant merely reminded me that I have been, as you might put it, ‘winging it’ since day one.”

(What Konosuke Jii had actually said was –  _with all due respect, Kaito-bocchama, even Toichi-sama admitted that he was making it all up as we went along._ )

“For a moment there I though you’d been tapped for an emergency meeting about the Phantom Thief Code,” Saguru says dryly.

Kid has the sudden mental image of a businesslike meeting table, with Arsene Lupin, Chat Noir, and – good heavens –  _Phantom Lady_  sitting around it, at which point his brain shuts down with a shudder. “I don’t think there’d be enough space for all the ego in the room.”

Saguru raises an eyebrow. “Really. That’s something, coming from you.”

“Oh, you don’t know half of it. The phantom thieves I’ve met could make both of us look humble and self-effacing, I don’t think.”

 

 


	7. prompt #4 [hospital!au]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "Hospital au. You choose the characters. The catch: none of them work there."
> 
> (or: the previous version of [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10440612) before i scrapped everything and started over, thankfully)

Saguru doesn’t _dislike_ interviewing witnesses in hospitals, not really.

But, as far as the list of tasks routinely required of a detective specialising in thefts goes, it's pretty far down the list. The constant buzz of activity, even this far from the ER, grates on his nerves as he walks briskly through the wards to interview the last witness.

Fortunately, the witnesses in this case – the latest in a chain of bank robberies, with two out of three suspects still at large – have been admitted to one of the hospitals he’s more familiar with. Hakuba Labs has a joint research lab set up here, and Saguru’s been here several times on his cases as well.

The former doesn’t mean anything much, Saguru has to admit – it’s almost impossible to find any major institution in Japan’s biomedical field where Hakuba Labs doesn’t at least have some form of presence, especially in Tokyo. As far as he knows, the lab here specialises in clinical immunology, though he’s never actually had cause to visit it himself.

The latter, though, means that Saguru is familiar enough with the layout to navigate his way through without undue pauses, save for a stop at the security desk earlier to exchange his pass for a new type that the hospital has just switched to last week.

Even so, Saguru has to forcibly narrow down his focus, blocking out the cacophony beeping alarms and medical jargon, which is when he runs into someone.

Or rather, _would_ have run into someone, if the other person – _female, around twenty, well-trained reflexes,_ he thinks automatically – hadn’t jumped back at the last moment. “Ah, I’m so sorry!”

The voice is vaguely familiar, and Saguru quickly realises why. “No, allow me to apologise, Mouri-san, it’s my fault for not looking where I was going.”

Ran blinks in surprise, though it’s replaced by realisation a second later. “Oh, Hakuba-san! I’m surprised you remember me, it’s been a while since we met.”

Almost three years, actually, but Saguru keeps that to himself. “Hardly, you did leave quite the impression. Are you visiting someone?”

“Ah, just a friend from school,” she answers with a wan smile.

[…]

Saguru is heading out of the wards after interviewing the last witness when his attention is caught by a figure walking briskly in the opposite direction.

She’s dressed in a similar fashion to all the other doctors, stethoscope hung around the collar of her white coat, but there’s something indefinitely _off_ about her that Saguru can’t quite place.

[…]

“You’re being awfully cavalier towards someone who has, by all accounts, tried to kill you, Kudo-kun.”

Beside him, Haibara – or Sherry, rather, but Saguru decides to stick with the non-codename – rolls her eyes. “That’s what I keep telling him.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aka the verse where aptx gives shinichi some kind of immunodeficiency thing, necessitating his basically permanent hospital stay in a sterile room (hence ran's visit), while shiho sneaks in regularly under an alias for Research Purposes™ (and to make sure that he hasn't kicked the bucket yet, but that's /entirely/ incidental, of course)


	8. from this time forth [heiji & conan]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> or: the one where heiji investigates a murder which turns out… entirely not as expected
> 
> (angst alert)

Just as expected, Kudo stands at the end of the crime scene, his small form a bare silhouette in the dim light of the alley.

Heiji stops dead in his tracks, wanting to move closer yet not daring to, and it’s suddenly disconcerting, the fact that he doesn’t know where he stands now with the Great Detective of the East.

“Hattori,” his onetime rival – friend? – says impassively, all childish pretence stripped from the voice. “I take that you solved the case, then.”

There is nothing of Heiji’s usual brashness in his words when he speaks. “Why am I here?”

_Why did you let me find out that it was you?_

A pause, filled only by the sound of harsh breathing, though Heiji isn’t quite sure whose it is.

“Because I wanted to take that decision out of my hands. And I couldn’t think of anyone better.” He turns to smile at Heiji, the expression mirthless and brittle. “I’m sorry, Hattori. I really am.”

“Kudo – you – ” the words are lodged in Heiji’s throat and he wants, desperately, to be anywhere but here. Wants to – to _not know_ , to –

(He wonders which of these things, exactly, Kudo is apologising for. Though it doesn’t matter, at this point.)

Kudo tosses him something – a voice recorder, glinting dully in the twilight as it flips over and over through the air – and Heiji catches it on reflex.

“Your call, Hattori. The evidence is all there.” Kudo is leaning against one wall, now, as if it’s the only thing holding him up – and Heiji wouldn’t be surprised if it was, really. But his voice is still crisp, matter-of-fact, as if they’re just discussing another case.

Heiji wishes he could hate the other detective for it, because this – this is _not_ another case, damn it, this is everything he never wanted. He’d always wanted to best Kudo, yes, but not this. _Not like this._

He forces his own words into some semblance of evenness, as he stows the recorder away in a pocket. “What evidence, exactly?”

“I asked if he would stop. He laughed. Asked if I’d just leave him there otherwise. I told him I would.” Kudo lets out a breath, head falling forward. “And I did.”

Heiji recalls something, suddenly. “But you hit him with the tranquilliser dart first, didn’t you.”

“Yes. So he wasn’t in pain, but he couldn’t escape, either.” Kudo glances over at him briefly, now, something flickering behind the bleakness. “Why, does that make it better?”

The question hangs between them for a long moment, but there’s only one answer to that, as far as Heiji’s concerned.

“I don’t think _anything_ can make this better,” Heiji says finally, and scrubs a hand roughly over his face. “Why didn’t you tell me, Kudo?”

“What, and drag you into this?” Kudo laughs humourlessly. “I traced this guy back into some of my father’s old case files, Hattori, he’d been doing this for years and there wasn’t any legal way to stop him. You won’t find them, but I sent him three letters describing everything he’d done, and a warning that I’d stop him. I knew he’d have to come here if he decided to try the same thing, so I set up the same trick that he’d been planning to use.”

And it’s not like Heiji can’t see the logical sequence of steps that’d led them here, laid out with the meticulous ruthlessness typical of Kudo. (It’s one thing that’s always unsettled Heiji a little about the other detective – Heiji knew very well that he’d never have been able to bear lying to Kazuha like that, even if he was technically capable of it. But Kudo had simply decided that was what would keep the neechan safe, so he’d done it.)

Heiji looks up again, sharply, at the faintest of sounds.

“I’d like an answer, please, Hattori.” Kudo’s voice is tired, so tired, and if there’s been any doubt before Heiji is certain that the wall is the only thing holding him up now. “Even if it’s the last thing you say to me. I’d understand that.”

 

 

* * *

 

_IAGO: “Demand me nothing. What you know, you know. From this time forth I never will speak word.” -_ Othello

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> directly inspired by a _certain_ christie novel, the name of which i'm redacting for spoilers, but long story short – conan goes after a murderer who's managed to set all of his kills up to look exactly like accidents, can't find any legal means of getting him, and it just all... goes downhill from there. but of course because i'm lazy and can't plot i skipped straight to the resolution scene whoops


	9. ask me no questions [inception!au]

The workshop – or, he amends mentally, carefully renovated warehouse – is large and airy, bright afternoon sun filtering in through several well-placed windows to illuminate the space.

It is, to put it plainly, not at all what Hakuba Saguru had been expecting when he’d been brought in to help with the takedown of a criminal organisation.

The only feature that doesn’t stand out incongruously so far is the fact that the windows appear to be made of one-way glass, inconspicuously concealed in the building’s facade and virtually unnoticeable from the outside.

He still isn’t completely sure that this isn’t an overly elaborate scam of some sort, though Saguru honestly can’t conceive of a purpose if that is indeed the case – yes, his detective career had continued from high school into university (with a still near-perfect solve rate, which was a point of pride for Saguru), but it doesn’t seem likely that anyone would target him over it. Unless it’s something to do with his father…?

Saguru keeps those questions to himself, though, and instead asks, “So why do you need an architect for this job, Kuroba-san?”

“No need to be so formal, Hakuba!” Kuroba Kaito (as he’d introduced himself earlier, though the jury’s still out on whether it’s a real name or not) turns around to give him a wide grin, walking backwards between the intricate scene models covering the floor without so much as a glance at his feet. “Let’s just say Shinichi and I are much better at cracking puzzles than we are at making them. Which is not bad at all, mind you, we’d do better than most architects in a pinch, but it’d just be a waste of our skill sets.”

“Not to mention, you find architecting boring,” comes a half-annoyed mutter from the large worktable at the centre of the room.

Saguru looks up from the models that’d prompted his question to see a vaguely familiar face – _Shinichi and I_ , Kuroba had said, and Saguru abruptly realises that the figure poring over an impressive number of documents at the table had to be Kudo Shinichi. He remembers reading articles about the fellow high school detective, but Kudo hadn’t been heard from for… at least two years, by now?

“Have a seat, Hakuba-san,” says Kudo (or, at least, the person Saguru _assumes_ is Kudo) as they approach the table. “There’s an extra cup of coffee here if you want it, Kaito’s certainly not going to fight you for it.”

It’d been a long day of mediocre classes even before Kuroba had approached him out of the blue, so Saguru doesn’t hesitate before reaching for the takeaway cup placed on the table. “Thanks, Kudo-san.”

Kudo does glance up briefly at that, and Saguru is struck by the resemblance to Kuroba. “So you did figure it out?”

Saguru takes a tentative sip of the coffee, then a larger one when it turns out to be at a reasonable temperature. “It seemed rather obvious to me.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised at how often people tend not to notice what’s right in front of their eyes,” Kuroba says cheerfully as he hops up onto the table, holding a mug that Saguru is certain _hadn’t_ been there just seconds ago.

This only earns a long-suffering sigh from Kudo, which certainly suggests that these antics are the norm for him. “To answer your question – as Kaito said, while we’re both capable of handling the architecture on most jobs, it’s not really a good idea to multitask that much on an operation of this scale.”

[…]

“What’s the password?” Kuroba calls out in a singsong tone.

“I come bearing gifts,” comes a dry voice.

“Always a pleasure...” Kuroba replies, though it trails off, incomplete.

Before he can wonder why, though, the first voice picks up again, obviously answering an unspoken question. “Haibara.”

“Your taste in names is, as always, impeccable,” says Kuroba-kun as he walks back into view, accompanied by a lady of similar age and colouring to Saguru himself, though her hair is more reddish than his own. “I must say, I liked your old one better, though.”

“Times change. I'd suggest you keep up.” Haibara – whatever her real name is – places a sizeable parcel on the table as she speaks. “Oh, and Kudo-kun – the person we spoke about last time is on the move again. I thought you’d want to know.”

Saguru wonders, with no little touch of irritation, if they’re always so vague in their conversations, or if it’s just because of his presence. He hopes it’s the former. It certainly doesn’t seem impossible that someone paranoid enough to use a false name – and a constantly changing one, at that – would habitually speak like an Engima machine. Kudo and Kuroba, with their apparent lack of qualms in using their real names (as far as Saguru’s been able to establish), are blindingly straightforward in comparison. It isn’t like Saguru himself is new to the business, after all – he’s been doing dreamsharing probably for as long as any of them had, even if not quite on the same level.

At any rate, Kudo clearly has no problems understanding their visitor, because he looks up with a frown. “You’re sure?”

Haibara’s expression barely shifts, but it already looks unimpressed. “You well know that I don't say anything without triple checking it.”

“Damn. And just as I was thinking we already had enough troubles to be dealing with...”

Haibara passes by him as Kudo talks, so he can’t see her expression as she walks between the tables towards the whiteboard that Saguru had been drawing mazes on earlier, picking up the marker he’d left there to twirl it almost absently between her fingers – and he watches in wordless shock as she draws an unerring path right to the exit.

All in thirty four seconds, by the count of his internal clock, and that had been one of his most complex ones yet.

She caps the marker with a snick and sets it down before turning around to regarding Kaito with a raised eyebrow. “One of yours?”

Kuroba flails overdramatically. “Your lack of faith wounds me, Haibara-chan!”

A pause, in which she gives him a look that’s even more unimpressed than Saguru had been aware that the human face was capable of, and Kuroba deflates.

“Fine, fine,” he grumbles. “Our new friend over there drew it.”

She eyes him – assessingly, Saguru can’t help but think – before giving one sharp nod. “Not too bad. Though you need to think in a less straightforward manner. Perhaps Kuroba-kun over here can help you with that.”

Kuroba takes that as a compliment, clearly, flashing a wide grin even as Haibara turns to leave. “Now that’s more like it!”

The reply is lost in the distance as Saguru sits, still half-frozen in surprise.

Shinichi chuckles beside him. “Questions, Hakuba?”

So many. “Who – how – _why_ is she not an architect?”

“Did we say she wasn’t?” Shinichi asks, though he shakes his head before Saguru can answer the (possibly rhetorical?) question. “She’s not, though certainly not for a lack of ability. I’d suggest you refrain from asking her why that is.”

“Advice seconded,” comes from behind him, and Saguru turns to see that Kaito has returned, making a beeline for the parcel still sitting untouched on the table. “You don’t want her angry at you, that’s for sure.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [as seen on tumblr](http://presumenothing.tumblr.com/post/158609529915)


End file.
